


Rose Among Thorns

by peacehopeandrats



Category: Dragonheart (1996)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacehopeandrats/pseuds/peacehopeandrats
Summary: Quick SummaryA village orphan, running from her adoptive parents, stumbles into an unknown, magical stranger in a clearing. He saves her from them and the two agree to meet again. Over time their friendship grows and he begins to teach her the Once Ways in the hopes that she will be able to find a new path away from the one she was given.TimingThis story takes place well before Draco and the first Dragonheart movie. I hope that over time it will explain the relationship that Dragons had with Humans before respect turned into hate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory "posting fanfiction makes me uncomfortable" remarks  
> I love Dragonheart.  
> I have always hoped to do justice to the relationship between man and dragon that got manipulated into oddities in later movies.  
> No telepathic links here, just pure 1996 Dragonheart stuff.

The chill in the air did nothing to cool the heat that burned Róisín's cheek as she tore through the forest on wings of fear. Though she dodged as many trees as she could, there were a few whose long fingers reached out to cling to her dress. The fabric caught over and over again on the sharp sticks, ripping angrily before it was freed by the force of her run. She could hear shouts of rage flashing through the forest like lightning and all she wanted in this moment was to outrun the bolts before they hit her again. Dresses could be mended easier than arms or legs and if she stopped now, it was surely one of the latter that would take the most damage.

Twilight was at hand and the woods gradually darkened as she charged blindly ahead. There were many dangers in the forest, but Róisín had never thought much of them. Fear of being eaten by some wild animal was nothing compared to what she faced in her daily life, slaving away in the town market for the two adults who claimed to be family. There was not a soul among the people in the village that believed their claims to her were true, but no one had bothered to stand for her in her troubles, and so she had remained with the cruel couple who were keeping her as their slave.

Exhaustion began to drag her down, pulling her heart in all directions as fire burned in her empty lungs. If she didn't find a place to hide soon she would certainly drop where she stood. Somewhere in these woods was rumored to be an underground cave, filled with riches and treasure. There had always been tales told of this magical place where all of the wealth of the village had been kept, but no one had ever found it and many who went looking had never returned. She did not care about wealth, but a place to curl up and catch her breath without being discovered would be a welcome happenstance.

Suddenly her foot caught on a log and she tumbled to the ground, arms and legs flailing to try and break her fall. Her body rolled in the leafy debris among roots, stopping just short of the muddy part of a stream. Róisín looked up from where she had fallen and was struck with even more panic than before. She had, quite literally, stumbled upon a clearing. Certainly here in this open space she would be discovered without any trouble at all. 

Her eyes darted around the open area that could easily hold several buildings from her village. Ignoring the mud and scrapes on her hands, she desperately stumbled to her feet, trying to find cover, but the only objects around were a large rock and the log she had stumbled over to get here.

Without warning, something moved among the leaves behind her and Róisín spun to see what it was, but found nothing. The life in the forest seemed to still and her body shivered with some unknown desire to flee again, to move as quickly as she could in any direction, even in the one she had come from.

“You are being hunted?” A deep, disembodied voice filled the air around her. It was rumbling and soft, both a whisper like a breeze and a crackle of dry fire. The question reverberated in her chest and heart, thrumming with the strength of an immense noise, though there was nothing and no one to be seen.

She stood motionless, terrified, only her head moved in a nod as she tried desperately to catch her breath.

Another shift in the leaves, this time to her side, near the rock. She turned to catch whatever sight she could of this stranger in the woods, but the movement stopped as suddenly as it started. “Quickly.” The voice insisted. “They're coming. Close your eyes and move to the rock. Curl up tightly against it. I can make certain they don't see you, but if you open your eyes, this will not work. I can protect you only as long as you trust me to do so. Do I have your word?”

Róisín was unsure of what to do next. Were the very trees trying to talk to her? Without a response, the voice rumbled again, hushed and angry. “Your word?” It seemed as desperate as she felt and she gasped a faint acceptance, then did exactly as she had been told. 

The rock was curved in so many places that it was easy to find a way to curl into the warmth of it. Obviously the surface had been heated by the sun in the midday, for it felt like touching the body of some living thing. She found the sensation strange, but soothing.

Tucking her knees close to her chest, she pressed her body into the stone as hard as she could manage, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs and hiding her face in her elbow to be certain that even if her eyes did open, she could see nothing. After a moment there came a swish of air and she forced herself to remain absolutely still. A darkness thicker than pitch surrounded her and she tried to take long breaths as the shouts of the villagers approached through the trees. They were stupidly calling her name as if she would come happily bounding back like a lost pet.

It wasn't long before she could make out the actual words spoken by the woman who claimed to be her mother, “Come on, lovely! Róisín! You've mistakes to mend!” The language of her “father” took longer to decipher clearly and was not always the cleanest of words. This was a typical state for him, especially when he had been drinking, which was what he did any time he was awake.

There was another man with them, someone from the village whose voice she recognized, though she couldn't put a face to it. His words came to her ear suddenly and directly at her side, though they were muffled, as if being spoken through some thick object. “She always comes back. This is a waste of time. So a few vegetables are missing. Punishment later, I think. It'll be dark soon and we don't want to be caught in these woods when the stars are out.”

“Sorcery tales don't scare me,” bellowed her father. “There's nothing in these woods but wood. Rotten and stinking, but wood all the same.” The sound that followed his words implied he was kicking around in the debris as if he could dig Róisín up with his foot.

“People who stay here after dark never return,” the woman reminded him. “Maybe Henwas is right. Punishment can wait. The cowering dog always returns to the hand that feeds it.”

“Ach,” mumbled the villager, “Why bother if the thief is only going to cause more trouble? Good riddance, I say. You'll find another, Car.”

A rumbling seemed to come from the earth then, and the sound of a blade slipping in and out of its sheath echoed among the trees. Suddenly every noise but the trickle of the water was still. The silence filled the girls' heart.

The silence did not last. The man they called Henwas almost immediately bellowed in what sounded like an overabundance of fear and desperation, “Well then... That's proof enough to me. She isn't here.” Róisín could hear footsteps rapidly retreating into the forest and assumed the coward was running for his life.

“Come, Car.” The woman insisted. It sounded as if someone were being pulled along in the leaves, kicking and swearing. Róisín imagined her “mother” having to drag him by the arm or tunic to make him leave.

“You listen here, girl!” The shout came from her father before it was suddenly muffled and turned into incoherent swearing and finally, “Leave me, woman! I can walk on my own!”

It was a long time before the snapping of broken twigs and the crunching of fallen leaves had gone silent, signaling that the people chasing her had finally moved on. A minute or two later, the woods were again filled with the sounds of birds and other animals that lived by the stream. The world around her lightened and there was a gentle breeze of warmth. “Open your eyes and leave the rock. You are safe.”

She rose slowly and blinked her eyes at the peaceful scene. “They're gone?”

“Yes.”

Róisín tried not to be obvious about looking around the clearing, but she was honestly curious. There was not a spare shadow or form that she could see anywhere in the open space, or as far into the woods as her sight could reach. “Who are you? _Where_ are you?” 

“Nearby... You wouldn't know my name. None do.”

“Are you... a magician?”

There was a thoughtful pause before the answer came. “I suppose _you_ would think of me that way, but no.” 

Another silence came while Róisín searched the clearing, taking a step here or there, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to look around. The voice seemed always to be coming from around the large rock that had protected her, but she could find no evidence of a man, no matter how many times she searched. Unable to stand the confusion she felt, she finally asked, “Can I not thank my savior?”

A chuckle filled the air, then went still. “I believe you just have.” After a pause the deep voice softened in what sounded like concern. “But you are hurt. Wash in the stream.”

Róisín glanced at her hands, it looked as if she had been juggling knives and missing the handle, catching only the blade instead. “I must have cut them when I fell.”

“Go to the stream, child.” Insisted the voice gently. “Wash your hands until they are completely clean, then use the knitbone on them.”

This was a foreign thing to her, she glanced around numbly, but couldn't find any bones. “I-”

“The plant with the long green leaves and purple flowers that look like bells.” 

Róisín noticed some right away and nodded. “Yes. I see.” She went to the stream first, dipping her hands into the ice cold water. She hadn't realized how badly she was hurting until the water rushed over the wounds, making them burn before the frigid temperature numbed the pain. She found a sliver of wood stuck into her palm and pulled it out carefully.

While she worked, the voice asked softly, “Do you mind if I ask... Who were you running from?”

The girl sighed, squatting awkwardly at the side of the stream, trying not to fall in as she washed. “They say they are my parents, but I know they aren't. My real parents were traveling with me when I was just old enough to remember things.”

“What happened to them?”

“I don't really know, but sometimes I can see parts of it in my dreams. Men rode up and fought with my father. They hit my mother and she fell on the ground, but she didn't get up. There was noise like at the blacksmith's and then I was up in the air and arms were holding me against something hard, but I couldn't see. I kept crying for Mama and Papa, but they didn't answer me. Then I was on a horse and taken into a village somewhere a long time down the road.”

“I'm sorry, I truly am.” The voice did seem full of sympathy and sorrow. She could believe him, she thought.

Róisín shrugged. “This life here is all that I know, really.”

“But it isn't,” the air around her rumbled softly in reply. “You remember some of what happened, if only in your dreams. You must remember something about your parents or where you were before you traveled?”

“I do remember the sea,” Róisín answered with a smile. She didn't ever think she had been there, but when others mentioned large sailing ships or great waves pounding the beach in a storm, she could imagine exactly the pictures to go with those things. She assumed that meant it was a memory. 

“Close your eyes again,” said the air. “Tell me what you see when someone talks about the ocean. Does it have a smell? Something you feel? I'd like to know.”

Róisín wasn't certain about this, but she tried anyway. Putting her hands in the water again to cool, she carefully shut her eyes to the stream and tried to see what her mind was telling her about ships and the shore. “There is the sound of the water at night, like a breeze that stops and starts over and over again. And I taste salt in the air.”

After a pause, there was encouragement. “Go on... Can you see your parents?”

“My father had light eyes and my mother... had brown hair that turned to fire in the sun.” She laughed, feeling the emotions of moments past come over her. “I used to run in the fields and the workers would let me hide behind them so I could vanish from my father and make him find me. It was a game we played. Mama would watch and laugh every time I got away. Then Papa would catch me up in his arms and hold me high over his head. He always wanted me to fly home, like I was a bird.”

“That sounds lovely.” There was a longing in those words that the girl could not place.

Róisín opened her eyes and took her hands from the water. Standing up, she moved to where the purple flower plant was and looked at it. 

“Crush the leaves in your hands and rub them on the cuts.”

She nodded and did as she was told. “There is nothing to make me happy here. I'm glad I can't remember what it was like before. I would always long for it otherwise. I'm not sad talking about it with you, though. Here... I feel different.” Róisín could not explain her need to divulge this truth to an invisible stranger. Was she hoping he would whisk her away? She wasn't sure.

“Well,” answered the voice thoughtfully, “You could continue to have that peace in this grove, if you wanted. I have missed having company and you should use these plants several more times in order to make your cuts heal properly.”

“But the bone plants belong to you...”

The voice chuckled. “Knitbone is what they are called by your people, and they belong to the woods, just as I do. They grew so that others could use them this way. I have no need for them, so you can use the leaves as you want, as long as you promise to let some grow for another year.”

Róisín scowled at the woods. “Of course I would leave some to grow. I'm scratched, not dying from some serious wound.” She felt a giggle escape her at the ridiculous image of being so covered in green leaf mush that she could no longer move her fingers.

“I would welcome your company,” the voice said warmly.

“Then I will come back when I can,” she answered, smiling at nothing in particular, just in case he was out there and could see her. “I must go. They will be expecting me and I have work for tomorrow if I expect to be fed.”

There was a grumble of sorts from behind the rock. It startled her into moving away from the clearing faster than she would have thought polite. “I'll come back when I can,” she called as she started her run. “Thank you!”

As the girl dashed away, the rock slowly changed shape, part of its form lifting into the air. Smooth bumps became spikes like horns and the gray color turned into deep browns, blacks, and the gold of scales. Yellow-brown eyes blinked, and a kind, animal-like face now looked sadly after her as she fled. “Thank _you_ ,” it said before letting out a breathy sigh and looking skyward, waiting to catch the glimpse of the first stars of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Róisín filled the clearing with her laughter as she watched two squirrels chase each other from one tree to the next. She was letting the healing leaves sit on her hands, as the wizard had asked, and was glad for the entertainment. Sitting and doing nothing had become very boring. 

A short, warm breeze washed over her and the man grunted in annoyance.

“You don't enjoy the fun the animals have?”

“It is not my fun to enjoy,” he answered from his hiding place. “It will only bring them young to fuss over and give me more trouble when I am wandering the forest.”

Róisín frowned, turning her head to face the rock that she had decided was the wizard's hiding place. “What anger could you possibly hold against babies?”

“Not an anger,” he insisted. “A frustration.”

“Do they steal your food?”

“They get underfoot,” he grumbled. “It has been long enough, you can wash now.”

Leaning over the stream, Róisín let the cold water clear away all traces of the leaf paste she had used for this, the last time. She had come three times for these treatments since her discovery of the clearing, and though she had wondered over the usefulness of the plant at first, she had to admit now that her hands had healed much faster than they would have without the wizard's care.

“I'm grateful to you for letting me do this,” she told the air, not for the first time. “With all of the work I do for the people who keep me, I rarely find time to rest. This has helped me to work better, which has kept them happy.”

“Why do you stay with them when they cause you so much fear and pain? Certainly you could leave for some other place... ”

Róisín sighed and lifted her hands from the water, staring at the droplets that cascaded off her fingers to rejoin what flowed past. “I have nowhere to go and there is no one who would take me in if I left. I would have no food or shelter...”

“You could come here...” There was a hint of surprise in the wizard's voice as he made this offer, which made her smile.

“Tired of being alone?”

A now familiar rumble filled the air, one that came only when she had embarrassed the man that kept himself invisible from her. She knew his feelings because the words that followed always sounded grumpy and were spoken in a voice older than the one he typically used. “There is safety in where I am, that is all that I am saying to you.”

“I would like to,” she confessed. “But what would I do?”

A shift in the leaves made her spin quickly on her heal in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of the wizard that belonged to the voice she now knew so well. Sadly, this wish was one she was beginning to feel would go unanswered.

“You could learn,” he told her, once the clearing was quiet again.

Róisín let out a long breath and moved to sit beside the rock, leaning her back against it. No matter how many times she had done this, she was still surprised at how the stone felt against her, warmer and softer than anyone would expect it to. She wished she could discover how it felt both light and solid all at once.

“There is nothing a girl like me can learn,” she told him as she leaned her head against the smoothness and closed her eyes.

The wizard's voice always sounded close here, sometimes coming from behind the rock, sometimes from within it, but always beginning from this part of the clearing, and always filled with friendship and concern for her well being. “You can learn how to use the plants near your village to better care for your animals, perhaps?” 

“I could...”

“I don't mean to keep you here against your will.”

Her eyes flung open at this. “I came here on my own. Do you honestly think I see you as my captor?”

The man snorted, a sound that had so much force behind it that it felt as if some of the trees would bend under the weight of it. “The villagers certainly think far worse.”

“The villagers don't even know you are here,” she insisted.

“They did once. We were friends once. Neighbors. In time, that has all been forgotten. Now I am only the creature that lives in the woods and carries their unguarded children away forever.”

Róisín shook her head. “I know that isn't true. No one has vanished from the village in many years. I was young the last time, but I remember when the shepherd vanished. He was discovered days later, his body was next to some wool from one of his sheep. Everyone assumed he was killed by an animal while trying to find part of his flock.”

“Wolves, most likely,” replied the voice in an offhanded way. There was a moment of silence before he continued. “They would not blame any animal now, only me.”

“They don't know you.”

**

Why was this girl being so stubborn? Was it some new instinct in humans to continue to struggle in their lives, to accept beatings and torment rather than seeking out peace and tranquility? Was there something so terribly wrong in leaving their pain behind and living by the Old Code of kindness and morality?

Pain and torment were what had made him wander to this clearing from his previous life, turning him into the Displaced One. Could she not see what it would do to her to remain as she was, or was she simply too young, still, to know the difference?

“Are we going to talk in circles, or will we decide if you are going to come here to live?” Frustration filled his voice, rumbling deep in his ribcage.

“I...” The girl's voice quivered.

He tried desperately not to be angry with her, but after so many years of solitude, his emotions were not what he remembered them to be. Accusation and uncertainty filled his heart, wounding him. “You are afraid of me, just as they are. Do you think _I_ will eat you too?”

“Of course, I don't!” The girl's voice carried far into the woods, silencing the birds and insects that sang their spring songs. 

The air shifted. All was still for a long while. This was unlike the quiet, peaceful silences that had passed between them so many times before on her visits here. Now, there was a hardness that hovered around them like a swarm of bees, threatening to sting each of them and swell their relationship into something unrecognizable. 

Eventually he spoke, his words softer and gentle with apology. “This is a hard time for me. I am sorry. Come and go as you please, but you must know that I want you to be safe. These people who say they are your family, who you know are not... They bring you only pain and suffering and I can not stand to hear of it.”

He thought of his own family, now lost to him, and pushed the memory away.

“Car and Mabina-”

“Are cruel and hurt you.” he interrupted “You built the place where you sleep with the chickens, you grow their food and raise their animals. They have given you _nothing_. You know enough to live on your own, even if you are only still a child. If you are afraid to hunt, I will do it for you!” 

The Displaced One's words sliced through the air, cutting them both. He cursed his own desperation to save someone so young on this, the anniversary season of the death of all he had lived for. Solitude had ruined him.

The girl stood suddenly, clearly afraid. “I was going to say that they need me. I... I have to go. I will come back again. I promise.” With these words, she took off, dashing between the trees on her way back to the only life she knew, a roar of sadness chasing her away.

Opening one yellow eye, he watched her flee from the anger and resentment that she did not know was aimed at someone else entirely. Letting out a long sigh, he removed his stone coloring and rose from where he had been the large rock only moments before.

“I forget how young human children still are at this age,” he reminded himself. “How could I have been such a fool?”

Convinced that he had chased her off for good, the Displaced One moved into his hidden cave and reached for paper and the hollow reed he used to write with, only to realize with sadness that the girl most certainly could not read. He doubted anyone in the village had the ability now, as long as it had been since anyone had come to him for learning. Knowledge was something that faded with time if it was not encouraged to grow.

With a heavy heart he replaced the items and settled onto the cushion that was his bed. Only time would tell if this newly seeded frustration would grow between them and choke out their new friendship like a weed.


	3. Chapter 3

The rooster was crowing, which wouldn't be a problem for any other child in the village, but Róisín was not simply any other child. The fact that her eyes were still closed as the animal announced the coming day was a very serious problem. Moving on instinct alone, her body tumbled onto the floor of its own accord before she had even realized she had moved, her eyes opened to mere slits. Stumbling around the tiny room, she groped for her things in a desperate attempt to be out into the open before anyone noticed she was still around.

The morning air was heavy with a chill that signaled summer's ending. Róisín had spent so many years fumbling through the predawn that she was aware of every subtle change. She could tell when a fog would roll in or when it would rain later in the day, all by how the air felt and how the animals moved when she came outside. Today, everything predicted a terrible storm.

“Come on, girls,” Róisín insisted, nudging the wary chickens with her body as she left her small lean to and entered their half-open shelter. “Out to feed before my father has me for breakfast.” They were being most uncooperative today, but at least she was able to gather a good number of eggs to make up for the few she had broken last week. She scattered their feed as far as she could to try and encourage them to explore the yard, but only a few brave souls were willing, most pecked around at what they could find, then sought shelter again. “The storm will pass,” she reminded them, stroking a few of those who were most afraid before making her way over to the milking barn.

Other animals here were restless as well, but most especially the cows, who wandered out into the field once they were relieved of the pressure below, only to find a place to settle in the grass. No one ever believed her when she told them that when cows settled down in a field it meant rain was on the way, they only laughed and made some comment about tired legs and laziness, but some day Róisín knew others would see what she could. As she nudged the last of the herd to the field, she looked skyward. Those light, little red clouds that hovered in the just brightening sky would turn black soon, it was a certainty.

“ _What_ are you doing, girl?!” The voice came from the open doorway of the home her “parents” lived in. Her father stumbled outside in an effort to catch her arm, bumping into the frame of the entry as he made an attempt at haste but failed miserably and lost his footing. “Out here daydreaming when there's work to be done? And with you still owed a lesson from yesterday?”

“I haven't been well,” Róisín reminded him as her gaze met the ground, fixating on a tiny stone and studying it as if her life depended on it. This man's anger was as predictable as the weather and she could feel that it wasn't just the clouds who would provide the day's storm.

“I don't care if death is chasing you. Mabina and I still need to eat, and instead of preparing our meal, you are out here, gazing into the sky!”

Róisín mumbled quickly, “I was judging the rain-”

“Judging the rain? Judging the rain?! More about the cows, this time? Or are you going to tell me that because you haven't seen a spider, the water is due in only a few hours? Which tale will you tell me today, girl?”

As Car spoke he shook her by the arms, jostling her teeth so that they chattered, making her head swim with the motion, but Róisín refused to take her eyes from the rock at her feet. “The fever yesterday-”

“Has nothing to do with your chores _or_ the weather. More excuses from you and you'll be doing this work with your arm in a sling, do you hear me, girl?”

Róisín nodded quickly, remaining silent.

“Good, now get that meal made for us.” With a final shove from Car, Róisín slammed against the outer wall of his home. A roughly-hewn log cut into her shoulder, but she bit her lip to contain the bleat of pain that any normal being would release at such contact. She needed no more attention brought to her weaknesses this morning and the bread needed to be made.

**

Hours of churning butter, followed by a day hauling and selling food in the market had made Róisín's shoulder swell and burn. To make matters worse, the storm had come, turning the roads into slick mud that had coated every inch of her by the time she had carried everything home, sliding more than once into the muck and jamming her shoulder twice again in the process. It had come to the point now where she could barely lift her arm more than a few inches. 

At least the evening had been peaceful. Car and Mabina had fallen into a drunken slumber and she knew she would be safe from their attention until they woke the next morning. Neither of them had gone with her to sell today and the weight of having to do the work of three people pushed her into bed fully clothed. She was simply too exhausted and in too much pain to even attempt undressing for the evening. Mud would sop through the cloth and into the straw, so her sleep mat would need to be changed tomorrow, but it was a price she was more than willing to pay for a night's rest.

Staring at a random point of darkness above her, she listened to her memories sing of the coolness of the wizard's stream. Oh, how gloriously soothing that water would feel now, rushing over her body, chilling and calming her.

“Oh, friend,” she whispered into the night. “When can I keep my promise to return?”

**

So many weeks had passed since The Displaced One had last had a visit from the young girl that he had given up all hope of ever seeing her again. He watched the water flow past his hidden cave and imagined drops of joy leaking from his heart and being carried away like the few leaves that had begun to fall from the trees. It had been a desperate act to talk with her, but after half of a lifetime of self enforced solitude, he had hoped that she would be the one to lighten his life that had been heavy with so much torment and sadness.

He could not think of a single moment that determined when the villagers had abandoned him, and was only aware of the slow change of cultural friendship after it had divided their lives from his. Somehow a cloud had come between them, creeping in and destroying every memory in its path. Once he lived beside them as a neighbor and friend, but no more, and because of his reputation among them now, he dared not leave his peaceful glade for the threat of violence that he so despised. Anger and destruction had brought him to this place so long ago and he would not let it drive him away. Though there was loneliness, there was also peace, which was what he now wanted most in the world.

Hiding himself in plain sight, he smoothed his skin, shifted his coloring, and closed his eyes to listen to the water play over rocks and roots. The sun felt warm on his side, which lay untouched by shadow from the hovering trees and the feeling comforted him. Soon the terrors of the past were replaced by the sweet sound of bird song and the music of his stream. Listening to the chime of the forest, he began to drift into his dreams.

With no warning at all something crashed through the brush and landed against his cooler side. Keeping perfectly still, he slowly opened one eye, in hopes of being able to see what had struck him, but the angle was bad and as a rock he dare not move to give away his secret. The thing seemed human, smelled human, felt human, yet it burned against him like something completely unhuman, heating his shaded side the way a small fire would if it had been built beside him.

“Wizard... Str... Water... Kuh...” The voice was instantly recognizable. It was the girl who had come to him before, but her words were barely speech and his stomach lurched suddenly in understanding. She was delirious with fever.

Risking his secret, he turned his head slowly and silently so that his vision fell on her limp body. She was draped against his side, covered in dry mud and shivering as her body fought whatever illness she had been stricken with.

“Do you hear me?” His mouth formed the words carefully, his voice as soft as he could possibly make it. A moan was her only reply.

Risking his secrets, he removed his appearance of stone and carried her to the stream, where he lowered her partly into the water, letting it wash and soothe her body all at once. The fever had to come down and the filth would need to be removed before he could properly examine her for its cause. He would not allow another child to die under his care.

**

When Róisín woke she was in a dark, warm place and it felt as if she were resting on a cloud. In the distance she could hear the echo of water and nearby the crackle of a fire brought the scent of smoke to her nose. Neither sound was a familiar one where she kept her bed by the chicken house and the strangeness of such regular noises confused her. The air had an even coolness that was also unfamiliar to someone used to a constant, shifting draft provided by her usual shelter. She knew she was not home, but strangely, she was not afraid. A place this comfortable couldn't be all that bad.

She tried to turn to her side, but the effort it took to move caused a fire to shoot through her arm and back. She closed her eyes as she willed the pain to subside, finding a comfortable position on her back and deciding to remain as still as possible for the time being.

“Are you awake?” A deep voice whispered in a rumble beside her, making her head spin with the proximity of it.

“Dizzy,” Róisín answered. “The ground is moving.”

The wizard's familiar chuckle came to the room, thundering softly around the walls and returning to her ears. “I'm afraid that is me. This place wasn't meant to be shared. I don't have anywhere for guests, so I have had to bring you to my own sleeping area. I hope it is comfortable enough otherwise.”

“If this is your bed-”

“I have been keeping watch beside you only when the fire needed tending. Most of the time I have remained outside. The others came searching for you and I did not want them to find this place. Here you will be safe.”

Róisín blinked and let her eyes adjust to the jumping light and shadow created by the fire. “How long have I slept?”

“You were very ill, and you were wounded-”

She smiled, “That doesn't answer my question, you know.”

“Then the answer to your question is that the stars have shone three times since you fell on me.”

“Three nights?! But what if they-”

A sigh filled the air. “I have taken care to make the others believe you were... attacked. They have stopped looking for you. Please try to relax, you need rest to heal from your injuries and I have made you some food, though I am afraid I am not an expert on cooking. You should try and eat some. I have only been able to help you swallow some broth with herbs soaked in it.”

Róisín turned her head to see a large chunk of charred meat sitting by the fire. “Anything is welcome,” she told him. “Thank you.”

**

The Displaced One watched, hidden along the cave wall, as the girl took tiny bites of the deer's leg he had cooked for her. If the charred texture or taste bothered her, she made no mention or expression for him to notice. He had worried for several days that because she was already so frail, her health would deteriorate to the point where he could no longer help her. Every day of the last four had been spent in constant vigilance for fear she would not survive. 

The care of her shoulder had taken the entirety of the first day. After washing her and discovering the large sliver of wood and small stone under her skin, he had needed to drain of the infection at the site of the wound and remove of the foreign objects as best he could before creating a poultice of healing herbs that would further draw out any poison he might have missed.

That evening the villagers had come, some of them swearing to have their revenge on the girl who had left their service. He had blocked the cave entrance with his stone-like body and secretly watched as arguments and threats were thrown from one human to another before the group moved on to another location. He decided then that he would need to convince them that the monster of the forest had taken her for his dinner. Before dawn, he had killed a buck near the village, leaving its blood and a scrap of her clothing behind on the path, as well as several claw marks on the trees that would most certainly inspire fear in anyone who would dare to venture his way.

Since that time all had been quiet in his clearing and he had been able to keep his attention to the girl. He created medicines and light broths to dribble down her parched throat and made sure that the cave was warm and dry, giving up his most comfortable resting place to sleep in the dirt, he had provided her with everything she could possibly need, then was forced to wait for her breathing to steady and her eyes to flutter open.

“Drink some of the broth there,” he told her when she looked into the hollowed slab of wood that he had been using as a bowl.

She took one sniff and made a face. “What is this?”

“The best that I could make for you, under the circumstances,” he answered apologetically. “My own combination of healing herbs, meant to cool your fever and stop your infection. I added some soaked meat to give your stomach something to work on, but you weren't able to swallow those. You were very sick when you came.”

There was silence between them as she took a sip, Once the girl had the medicine past her throat, she said, “I … I remember wanting your cold water at night and in the day, when I was working in the field... I don't remember anything else.”

“How did you hurt your arm?”

She took another gulp of the liquid before continuing. “My father did that.” 

A rumble of disapproval escaped him before he could contain it. “The young are the ones who carry on for the rest of us,” he said angrily. “To destroy them is to destroy our future.”

The girl jumped, wincing with pain at the involuntary movement. Watching her reaction to his words filled him with a guilt that pushed him to move closer, even at the risk of being noticed as a large rock in motion inside of the dark cave. He shifted his weight to where she rested on his bed. “I am sorry,” he said. “I truly am. I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“You sound like someone who knows these things from experience,” she whispered, turning her head this way and that, indicating she still wasn't certain of his location within the space.

He realized just how wise she was, a gift that came at the cost of experiences thrown onto a child much younger than one who should know such things. “I had young once,” he finally confessed. “I outlived all of them.”

“Oh...” Slowly, she sat up, tenderly cradling her arm so as not to jostle her shoulder. The girls' head turned again, slowly, in what was obviously a determination to see who she was speaking to. “I... I am so sorry...”

“It was long ago.”

“That doesn't make it any less painful,” she insisted. 

He let out a soft breath and relaxed beside her. “I suppose not.”

From that moment on a familiar, quiet peace settled between them, lasting most of the night, broken only by the occasional slurp of broth mixed with the trickle of the stream and the crackle of the fire. In time, even the sound of her sipping became still and the Displaced One wondered if she had fallen back to sleep.

“Is this what you made me wash with?”

The girls voice broke through the silence like an icicle dropping onto rock. “Pardon?”

“What you gave me to drink... Is it the same plant that I washed with?” With hardly a breath, she suddenly changed her question. “How did you learn to use plants to heal?”

“My people have known that for so many years that your people have forgotten,” he answered. “In fact, my people were the ones who taught yours most of the things that they know.”

“Can you teach me?” The girl shifted suddenly beside him and he could feel her using his “stone” body to pull herself to her feet.

“You should rest now,” he insisted.

She chuckled at him, feeling along his body as if trying to find her way somewhere. “I need a place in the bushes... Unless you want me to ruin your bed..”

Embarrassed, he chuckled at himself. “Ah... yes, well... Hm... Follow the other wall, there is a small bend before you see the entrance.”

Laughing aloud at his expense, the girl made her way as directed, giving him an opportunity to tidy up in the room, refill her bowl with fresh water and set some fruit within her reach, for when she was ready. He tried to work quickly so that he could not be discovered, but a shriek from the cave entrance startled him into motionlessness. 

“Are you hurt?”

There was no reply. Worried, he swiveled his head and shifted his weight in an attempt to see what she could see in the clearing, but all that he could see was the brightening clearing. “What happened?”

“Magic!” she shouted.

“Magic?”

“The rock that was here before... is gone!”


End file.
